


Waking Up in London

by louisovermyknee



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clubbing, London, London Underground, M/M, Pole Dancing, Prostitute Louis, Prostitution, Smut, Social Anxiety, Stripper Louis, Student Harry, University Student Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-03-21 12:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3691566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisovermyknee/pseuds/louisovermyknee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finally convincing his parents to let him study abroad, Harry ventures to London, England where he crosses paths with a pimp whom is part of a rather naughty facility nicknamed "The Love Club". There, Harry encounters a popular tribute that goes by the name of Louis. Written in Harry's point of view, his spring break turns into a trip he'll never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are. Spring Break has arrived for me! My teacher's going to Florida; My classmates are going to Cancun; My "friend" is going to Bermuda; and I'm stuck in my hometown until who-knows-when. :/ So, what do I do? I present to you the pleasure and joy of a new short fanfic! Please enjoy.

**Harry POV**

The rush of the commotion of going in and out of the subway train was both frustrating and depressing. I’ve only been in the city of London for an hour and already it felt like gravity was having more fun than me. I had tripped, causing my to body fall to the solid ground below me. The erupted laughter seemed to take an eternity to rise and fad away. Right then, I accepted my fate. My glorified hope instantly transformed into a battle that I was destined to lose. My intuition arrived at an opinion that indicated that studying abroad was just a waste of time at that point—at least, up until my head perked up.

A rather slender, yet rusty, figure reached an arm out to me. I was greeted with the kind hand, and I took it without another moment’s thought. The man helped me up and I could see his ruffled eyebrows and the frisky beard that hung from his chin under his lips. I adjusted my bag over my shoulder again.

“That’s fucked up, dude;” his voice was croaky with a tint of a southern British tone.

“Yeah,” I replied, and thanked him immediately.

I was prepared to nod and leave in a quick manner when he suddenly asked, “What’s up?”

I shrugged, “Nothing much, man.”

“Come closer.”

The dark-haired man lowered his neck. He shifted his weight in a frugal way, backing up to the wall, away from the crowded mess of people. Pulling one hand out of the pocket of his jeans whilst looking around, he waved for me to obey his command. I knew that that was not the right thing to do. Supposedly, I could have run away screaming “helpful murderer!” in the middle of the Underground; but of course I didn’t.

“What?” I muttered over the sound of the train departing.

“Are you in the mood for _anything_?”

“Any what?”

“What’s your name?”

“Harry.”

 _Damn it! Stupid! What have you done to yourself?!_ Internally, I scolded myself for not taking the most common precaution of meeting a suspicious stranger. I had succeeded in telling a risky persona my real name, thus circling myself in a long-term spiral of regret.

“Harry, I’d like to hook you up. If you go upstairs, walk down the street, there’s an adult club right at the corner there. You’re a college student, aren’t ya’?”

I figured there was no going back. I nodded the message to him.

“I’ll get you a deal.”

Blankly and avertedly frightened, I said, “OK.”

“Live girls and lads. 19 to 25. There are whites, blacks, browns; and French, British, and Americans. Anything after ten o’clock is up for grabs.”

He ended his advertisement with a smile.

I implied my interest with a subtle nod and a blink; “OK, interesting.”

The man slipped his hand through his sweater to retrieve a small notecard and pen. Clasping the card in his hand and clicking the pen open, he began to write. I stood there idiotically, trying to hide what was my obvious awkward state. When I first entered London, I half-expected an adventure to start. I did not imagine this.

The dealer whipped the card over to me. I took it and observed what was printed on it. It was a business card intended for a hotel. No doubt this was used for the sake of a budget. With any luck, I’d expected recycling. The address of the hotel was marked in gold. The pen the man wrote with managed to spell out a name.

“Tell them Martin sent you,” he claimed.

Martin began to walk away as I stupidly replied, “Nice meeting you.”

Within a flick of an instant, my head perked up in the heat of a realization. Before he disappeared into the crowd, I called out to Martin.

“Hey! What is the _place_ called?”

“The Love Club. See ya’ later.”

Walking past the place was unavoidable. At the corner of my eye, I could see the frame of the adult club I was forced to learn about. My eye twitched like I was attempting to stride past a Victoria’s Secret showplace. I shook my head, denying myself as I made my way to the university group meetup location.

_No, Harry. Stop it. You are stupid._

Like I haven’t heard that before.


	2. Two

**Harry POV**

“So where is this place anyhow?”

“Do you think we could actually get lost in the city of London?”

“Oh, shush up. It’s right up here.”

I was forced against my will to show my roommates what they considered a goldmine. Turning down a street, I saw the targeted area within a walking distance. The lights were on inside. The muffled base line of music could be heard from where we stood. Do doubt it was a melody from Rihanna or Nikki. When the three of us reached the door, I was surprised to see that there was no line outside.

 _Slow night_ , I reckoned; but that was not exactly the case.

My blonde friend starred at me; “Well?” he coaxed.

I said nothing.

“Come on, let’s see what’s up,” my other friend did not let me take another breath. He went through the doors so quickly.

The seconded followed him in a flash. I blinked, solemnly glancing down the road, as if I needed to, before going inside.

“Ticket?” immediately, I spotted my eager roommates facing a security checker with dark skin.

“What ticket?” The blonde erupted with a frown.

“This,” I cut in, displaying the recycled business card; “Martin sent us.”

I used the word _sent_ loosely as I was practically dragged here from my college mates’ curiosity. Nevertheless, the man agreed.

“Ah, Martin. Cool guy. Enter.”

To explain this in a metaphoric way, The Love Club was the cousin of Hollister. With just enough lighting to brighten the way, the atmosphere was crowded with sound waves and sordid scandals. In one corner, a bartender was handling a drink to a dark-haired missy on her way to tipsy town. In another, a rather older man was enjoying a make out session with a blondie. Before us, a few men were discussing what could have been Piccadilly Circus or Pick-A-Daily Clitoris.

“OK,” I spoke slowly and cautiously. I turned to meet my friends, “Well, there you have it. What now?”

I was disappointed to see that they had dashed away like children with a desire to learn more than our school had to offer. I let out an aggravated breath. I really did not want to be there. At first, I contemplated whether to leave or not. Then I remembered that I did not want to be held responsible for my friends’ disappearances. So I stayed. Squinting my eyes, I attempted to find some form of entertainment, all whilst avoiding the stage that just happened to have a pole hinged onto it. From beyond, I spotted what I believed looked to be Martin. I went in to investigate.

“Yeah, mate. They missed an open goal within the next stage, I wanted to stop watching;” Martin’s attention fluttered away from the other once I came into his view. “Hey! I’ve seen you’ve come.”  
            “Uh-huh,” I muttered; “I brought some friends, if it’s OK.”

“You what?!” The music blocked me out.

Instead of shouting, I pointed in the direction they had fired themselves into. They were then occupied by three lassies that had more than enough time to spare. I noticed that my dark-haired friend slipped his wallet back into his jacket. He was ready for a round or two. I avoided explaining my shame for them, as I turned back to Martin.

“So,” he said, “want anything?”

I shrugged, “no!” Once he flashed me a befuddled look, I altered my statement; “I mean to say I don’t know what I want!”

“Alright then, let’s just check things out for a bit.”

He led me back to the entrance of The Love Club. There, Martin poked the shoulder of the black security man we saw earlier.

“Hey, Terry! Anything from Scotland?”

“Nah,” he shook his head; “She’s booked for the night.”

“How about Ireland?”

“He’s off for the week.”

“OK, what about Portuguese?”

I couldn’t stand to hear more of it. I turned away as if I could break my own attention. Which, strangely, I was successfully distracted as Beyoncé faded away and was traded in for Bruno Mars. A man, slender and feather-haired, approached the stage from a door in the wall. He wore a striped shirt that matched a fantastic pair of bright red shorts that were held up by suspenders. Below him, his feet were fitted in a pair of black pumps. His hair was gelled up in a swirl that reminded me of a cinnamon roll. He had a charming smile as he took the pole by storm.

Gradually, the man climbed the long structure that reached up to the ceiling. I watched him glide himself down, exposing his rounded bottom that could have solved world hunger. What really struck me was the way he carried himself. His hips presented a wondrous display as he swirled around and danced. He would step around the pole, bringing himself up for a couple spins around. He seemed to enjoy what he sought to do. Even Martin could see that I was certainly locked out of Heaven.

“I think we’ve found an interest,” he grinned brightly; “Barry, is that your name?”

“Harry,” I corrected, on the verge of drooling.

“Right,” I felt his palm wrap around my back and clasp my opposite shoulder. We walked, and he talked; “That guy, over there. Looking at him, yeah? Great one-nighter; Flexible and cheeky in all the right places. My man, you’ve got yourself a good one.”

I did not protest, though I could not stop myself from having a sudden panic. Introducing myself to a well-experienced clubber was beyond me. The fact that I was about to meet one was even more petrifying. The man had exited his playground to have a rest on the sidelines. The closer we got to him I noticed how he was not cleanly shaven. His frisky beard made his appearance older and more hirsute. My insides felt squishy as Martin approached him.

“Louis, hello;” he stretched his hands out for a shake.

The stripper returned with the gesture, “hey.” 

Within a flash, Martin sent my name out into the world I did not imagine existed. I didn’t know what to do at first, so I smiled and said hello. It had come to the point where my social skills were aroused by simple common greetings. Louis eyed me for a split second before handing me his palm for a business-like shake. I stepped out of my frightened phase to repeat the motion. Once Louis had let go of my hand, my mind went red alert as I did not know when was the last time that pole had been washed.

“£50 for experience,” Martin suddenly announced.

“What?!” I could have coughed up blood out of stretch.

The lads looked at me dumbfounded. I corrected myself.

“I’m sorry, it’s just … that’s an arm and a leg!”

“We could settle f-”

“Hey, lads. Come on,” the young man that was given the title worth a fortune stepped in. He had a charming voice which caught my attention right away. “Martin, I’m sure we can come up with something.”

He observed me. I watched his eyes scan my face like some form of metal detector. Something told me he was looking for an excuse to my innocence. I said nothing.

Finally, he made a suggestion; “How about £20 for the newcomer?”  
            Martin opened his mouth to speak. I cut him off to avoid a collision.

“Sure, yeah, I can do that,” my hand reached down for the wallet in my jacket pocket.

I forked the money over, but immediately reminded myself that I didn’t know what I wanted. I was blowing up my original plan to flee the club when I had the chance. I couldn’t have done it at that point.

“Well then, I’ll leave you to your work,” Martin slipped a pair of keys into Louis’ palm.

I was hooked.

“Bridal suite’s open,” he winked.

I was lined.

Being left alone with the man of profession, he waved over to me with a smile; “Coming along, curly boy?”

I was about to sink.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Love Club - Lorde --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8aSrLda8_Q

**Harry POV**

            The bridal suite was just as its name predicted. The dark walls, the soft carpet, the heart-shaped bed. Everything seemed just in the right place for the cliché scene in a movie where the boy and the girl make out without their parents ever knowing. As for me, with my money spent and a soul to keep, I was desperate to get out of there.

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?” the famous stripper that went by the name of Louis kicked his heels upward to start towards the bed.

I saw him adjust his suspenders so they would hang down the sides of him shorts. Twirling around, I could see that his fingers were handling the zipper of his trousers. The feeling of arousal came to me in an instant. But the rational part of my brain knew that it would not let that distract me from the feeling of complete discomfort. I had dug myself a bottomless hole which would soon lead me to my burial. I had to stop this.

“No.” This little slur of a word was all I could muster.

“Wha-” the handsome stripper paused as he held onto the brim of his shorts. He returned with, “Sure we will.”

He didn’t get it.

“No, you don’t understand.” I took the common motherly advice and let out the truth. “I don’t want to be here.”

Louis showed his confusion through the dimly lit room; “What?”

I tried to explain, “That guy, Martin, or whoever he’s called. I didn’t ask him to take me to this place. I never came to London on a sex mission.”

The man in heels breathed in deeply as if I offended him. I watched him as he buttoned up his shorts. I shook my head. I was embarrassed now–not for telling the truth–but for the fact that the truth was that I never wanted this to happen in the first place.

“Look, I didn’t mean for it to end like this, but I came here for school, and that’s that.”

Silence filled the room like steam in the kitchen. Louis’ swirl of the hair seemed to droop in disappointment, or at least it felt like it. I could only pray that the nervous tremors of my hands were not visible to the man I was confessing to. Admittedly, I had to make an exit somehow without embarrassing myself any further.

“I’m sorry, I jus- … I should go.”

My feet could not have been quick enough to sail out the door before Louis responded back to me in a fair voice.

“No, no.”

I felt the gentle touch of a hand grasp mine. I turned back to find a sense of care in the eyes of the stripper.

“Hey,” he breathed; “I’m not going to pressure you into anything. That’s not what I do, and if you don’t want to do anything, it’s fine.”

I didn’t know what to do with the sudden ease. I nodded modestly.

Louis continued, “But please, you’ve already paid. Let me give you your money’s worth.”

He led me out of the bridal suite and worked with the keys to lock the door again. Afterwards, we walked back to where we first were, where Martin introduced me to yours truly. A chair was set forward and apart from the rest. I was instructed to wait, and then Louis sashayed over to the D.J. for a short discussion. By the way he strutted down the way I wondered just how a man could work in heels for a living. I was not complaining, but I was certainly curious.

“I won’t bend over backwards,” I said as Louis propped himself onto the stage.   
“Oh, no. None of that,” He stood up with a rare grace; “I was thinking of a more ‘show and tell’ approach.”

“What do you mean?”

With a wave of a hand, he motioned for me to have a seat.

“Don’t act innocent,” Louis scolded as he leaned towards the silver pole; “I saw you staring at me.”

_Staring? Oh god._

I shook off all of the possible thoughts. I slowly took the designated seat and came back with a sentence that didn’t sound too optimistic.

“You want me to watch you?”

“If you’d like.”

That’s when the rhythm began.

The sounds traveled around us, emphasizing a female voice harmonizing with the gradual incoming music.

“No harm, no foul, right?”

“Right, yeah.”

 

_I’m in a clique, but I want out._

_It’s not the same as when I was punched._

_In the old days, there was enough._

_The card games and ease with the bitter salt of blood._

I couldn’t tell if Louis had a routine or if he made everything up as he went along. Either way, he did not fail to perform a reprise of his astounding show.

 

_I was in, but I want out._

_My mother’s love is choking me._

_I’m sick of words that hang above my head._

_What about the kid?_

_It’s time the kid got free._

 

He glided along the pole with the curve of his shorts rubbing against it. I took note of his bum more closely than before as I sat there doing what came naturally. Watching became a wonder as he shifted through the verses of Lorde’s melodies.

 

_Be a part of the love club._

_Everything will glow for you._

_You’ll get punched for the love club._

_For the love club._

 

            It was after the chorus when Louis paraded around the pole. A simple jump was the ticket to a movement that made dancing look like an easy task. He swam through the air, round and round the slender structure. His pumps would reach the stage again and Louis would give a sensual glance to the eyes of the beholder. I never thought that it would be me to have a first seat look at an attraction like this.         

 

            _I joined the club, and it’s all on._

_There are fights for being my best friend._

_And the girls get their claws out._

_There’s something about hanging out with the kicked kids._

His pumps would reach the stage again and Louis would give a sensual glance to the eyes of the beholder. I never thought that it would be me to have a first seat look at an attraction like this.           

_Take the pill, make it too ill._

_The other day, I forgot my old address._

_I’m sitting pretty on the throne._

_There’s nothing that I want,_

_Except to be alone._

            Now he was moving from the prelude to the main attraction. Lowering himself down, he came down off the stage. With a kick in his step, Louis pranced over to the front of me. Inside of me, arousal was replaced with nervousness. The nerves were subdued with anxiety. Then the anxiety faded away to even more arousal. Witnessing the removal of Louis’ shirt made it all worthwhile.

_Be a part of the love club._

_Everything will glow for you._

_You’ll get punched for the love club._

_For the love club._

The striped shirt could be seen twirling in the air by a finger. It flew down to lightly brisk my face with the command of the hand that mastered it. The fabric felt soft, yet hot. I did not have to ask why.

_Your clothes are soaked and you don’t know where to go._

_So drop your chin and take yourself back home._

_And roll out your maps and papers._

_Find out your hiding places again._

Louis returned to the front. His figure became quite clear to me now. His experience in the workforce had rewarded him with a slim frame and magnificent muscles. His chest looked remarkable. Even his waistline showed his charisma in the business. Snaking around, it was clear that he couldn’t have been more proud of himself; especially by the width of his hips as well as the bahookie that hung between them.

_The only problem that I got with the club_

_Is how you’re severed from the people who watched you grow up._

_When you’re a member, go on your great adventures again._

_They will be waiting at the end._

Bending forward, the man did his bidding. How he managed not to fall off balance will forever remain a history. Louis’ bottom, which was once a distant work of art, was now a beloved package that floated in front of me. I couldn’t help but blush at the slight twitch and twerk of his bum. All throughout the last chorus, I was a bashful contestant until he perked himself up again.

_Be a part of the love club._

_Everything will glow for you._

_You’ll get punched for the love club._

_For the love club._

            So there we were; Louis’ hands clasping around the arm rests of the chair, and me sitting in fulfillment. Our glances of green and blue merged together to form a splurge of a sea green mixture. The song had stopped. The world became quiet. And I only had two words to say.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

“No,” a single kiss on the cheek settled it all; “Thank you.”

I could feel myself blush as I navigated my way back to the hotel where my roommates fell sound asleep. No doubt they had their share of fun for the night. I tucked myself in with a smile on my face knowing that this trip to London would not be so terrible after all.

            **THE END**


End file.
